


Pharaoh Man Saves the World

by MiggyBird



Category: Rockman | Mega Man Classic
Genre: Comedy, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:08:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22358482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiggyBird/pseuds/MiggyBird
Summary: Roboenza is back and badder than before! A planned mutation of the virus causes a mass relapse, and robots around the world turn on humanity once again as the infection spreads. In Russia, the Cossack-bots are informed not only of the crisis the world faces, but even more startling: Mega Man is out of commission! What will happen now? Who will save the world?! (Go on, guess.)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	1. Walk Like an Egyptian

_ALL UNITS UNDER DESIGNATION DCN-XXX AND DCN-XXXR MUST CONTACT OR REPORT TO COSSACK ROBOTO-TEKHNIKA GLOBAL HQ. UNITS MUST ATTEND IMMEDIATELY, COMPLETING THEIR CURRENT FUNCTIONS ONLY IF ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY. THIS TRANSMISSION IS AN ORDER. MAINTENANCE AND TESTING ARE TO FOLLOW UNITS’ ATTENDANCE. UNITS ARE TO BE CONSIDERED NON-FUNCTIONAL UNTIL THIS MAINTENANCE AND TESTING IS COMPLETE._

_SEE YOU ALL SOON, I KNOW YOU’VE ALL BEEN GOOD BOYS FOR PAPA AND WE'RE VERY PROUD OF YOU._

_DISREGARD PREVIOUS TRANSMISSION, AND ANY FURTHER STATEMENTS INCLUDING THE WORD “PAPA”. KALINKA WISHES YOU ALL WELL, HOWEVER._

Pharaoh Man took note that the command to disregard also contained the word "papa", and decided that was a paradox not worth picking apart. 

He was fairly confident that he was a good boy, but he appreciated that the young mistress thought to reassure him. Affectionate bonding behaviour by humans was a sign that a robot was liked, and being liked was a sign that a robot was doing worthwhile work. Or that they had a very cute chassis design. There was some overlap there; Toad Man was essentially built to be an adorable, fat sprinkler, so he certainly served his purpose, such as it was.

From his spot overlooking the pyramid excavation site, he turned his head to see the human research party, and the water cooler, which winked at him. It kept doing that. Most of the humans were either hunched over papers or looking over the shoulders of those who were. Pharaoh Man hadn’t set foot inside the newly discovered site in four days, and had been instructed to await further instructions. Verbatim, the order had been “hurry up and wait,” but his command record did not have a flexible labelling system.

“Pardon me. Dr. Tran?” he asked, calling attention to himself. Tran and a few others looked up from the camp. “I have received orders directly from my creator and highest overseer, Dr. Cossack. I am to contact or return to his company’s headquarters following the execution of my current function.”

Tran, who had tape on his glasses, which Pharaoh Man found kind of funny because it made him look like the child being pushed into the locker in one of the young mistress’ American high school films, and Tran himself already kind of looked like that child, but older and thinner and with yellow teeth, called back. “Have you finished?”

“I don’t know. Have I?”

“Are you getting smart with me, pyramid boy?”

“My operational title is Pharaoh Man, Dr. Tran.”

“Have you finished with your current orders, or haven’t you?”

Pharaoh man took a moment to think about that. “I don’t believe so.”

“Well, then get back out there and… do it! What are you, hourly?”

“No, doctor. My service is provided in exchange for a _daily_ fee, paid to Cossack Roboto-Tekhnika’s financial-”

“What have you been doing?”

“I was instructed by Mr. Langier to await further instructions.” One of the other researchers looked up, and then began to back away slowly.

“What? When?”

“Four days ago.”

“Then what services-? What have you been _doing_ for four days?”

“Awaiting further instructions.”

“For god’s sake, get out! Go home, right now!” shouted the doctor. “Langier, what the hell have you-”

And the rest Pharaoh Man missed, as he was already going home, right then, and could not collect any auditory input while dematerialized and traveling as compressed electromagnetic data on a cylindrical plasma mesh, even though that would be marginally useful sometimes.

-

“Welcome home, Pharaoh!” Kalinka called, beaming. She ran to him, and clung to his arm. It made him somewhat jumpy when she did that. Mostly because, as an XXXR-model, he had been rebuilt using the advanced weapon schematics developed for Dr. Wily’s nefarious ends. So, he was armed for combat. Literally - his arms generated medium-heat high-density solar-charged plasma projectiles, otherwise referred to as Pharaoh Shots (in addition to the extra-saucy Pharaoh Wave).

Partly though, it made him nervous because while Dr. Cossack was a patient and good natured man, it annoyed him when his intelligent and accomplished teenage daughter treated a gathering of his robots as a room full of theme park mascots. Which Pharaoh Man found kind of funny, because some of them really looked like theme park mascots. Especially Toad Man.

“Pharaoh, Pharaoh! Walk like an Egyptian!”

“I believe the doctor will be here shortly to-”

“That’s an order!” Kalinka said sternly, though still smiling.

Pharaoh Man raised his arms into a snake-like pose and began shuffling back and forth in a dance he’d been made increasingly familiar with over the course of his visits home. He spent a lot of time in Egypt, and knew that Egyptians almost never walked that way. But he was good at interpreting orders. Especially if it meant squeezing four days worth of operating fees out of a lessee too preoccupied with busywork to notice.

“Stop that,” Dr. Cossack’s voice boomed over the intoxicating desert rhythm Pharaoh chose to hear in his head while he danced for the mistress, and he immediately stood at attention. “Kalinka, every order you give them is another five pages of code I have to peruse during testing. Go finish your project for school.” The last time the doctor had sent a transmission, Kalinka had slipped in a message about how her engineering course (a college class, Kalinka being ten years younger than some students there, the doctor had proclaimed proudly) had assigned her a project building functional integrated circuits, along with a message that she missed him and hoped he was having fun in Egypt.

“I did finish it! I just need to test it! Can I put it in Toad Man?”

“No. What does it do?” Cossack said, crossing his arms.

“It’s just an oscillator, it’s not going to hurt him.”

Pharaoh Man cut in. “Is Toad Man already here? I thought I made very good time. And he’s… normally rather slow.”

The doctor turned away from his daughter to address his robot. “He is a sprinkler. He has free time.”

“Papa, _please!_ ”

“Toad Man is scheduled for maintenance, Kalinka. Just use a Mettaur. I cannot have you altering his systems before I’ve-”

“It’s just an oscillator! And Mettaurs don’t have complex enough circuitry to properly test my-”

“DCN-004R!” Cossack addressed Pharaoh loudly, using his universal serial number in much the same way he might use Kalinka’s full name when he wanted to be taken seriously. “Report to Laboratory 2!”

Pharaoh Man straightened up, bowed his head lightly, and marched off. He knew it would be best to follow his orders quickly and quietly, as Dr. Cossack seemed uncharacteristically high-strung today. Pharaoh wanted to keep from agitating him further. He was a good boy like that.

-

Laboratory 2 was specially suited to working on Robot Masters. High-end computers to manage the immense memory demands of reading their processors in real time. A full gamut of tools and replacement parts spanning the now better-understood field of Master-type robotics. A very sturdy couch, which could withstand a two hundred kilogram machine dropping itself onto the cushions out of boredom and/or frustration during long stretches of off-duty, indoor meandering.

“Hullo, Pharaoh,” croaked DCN-002 from his face-mouth (or mouth-face?). He was lying down and taking up the entirety of the room’s precious couch real estate, which put Pharaoh Man on edge, as Toad Man was roughly two hundred _thirty_ kilograms.

“Good…” He checked his internal clock for the local time, which was only an hour forward. “... afternoon, Toad Man. How are the crops?”

“Wet.”

“Well done, then.” Pharaoh tented (pyramided) his fingers. “On another note, does the doctor seem agitated to you? He’s normally happy to see us return.”

“Yeah,” came a third voice, deep and creaky like a death rattle. “Seems the circumstances are pretty _grave_.”

“And, good afternoon, Skull Man.”

“Hiya. Find any mummies?” he asked with smiling eyes.

Pharaoh shook his head. “Not lately. My work came to a halt recently.”

“Well yeah. So did all of ours.”

“No, I meant… before that. What kind of work has the doctor assigned you, anyway?” he asked, curious. DCN-008R was a combat robot, through and through. Dr. Wily had specifically requested a robot with a skull motif to bolster the ranks to eight robot masters (a number which he’d also specifically requested), and for whatever reason, Dr. Cossack had elected to rebuild Skull Man after the crisis was over. The doctor had a certain affection for all of his creations; maybe he’d just felt it unfair to leave Skull Man out, but over the years that particular robot's functions had been rather limited. “I assume he has some sort of military or security contract for-”

“Tending to the elderly.”

“... Come again?”

“You know, helping take care of the old folks.”

Pharaoh hesitated, waiting for a laugh or a punchline to come out of the grinning skull staring back at him. “That has to be a joke.”

Skull Man put a finger to the bony teeth making up his chin. “Huh. You know, now that you mention it… maybe it _was_ a joke.” They shared a confused look, and Skull Man just shrugged.

-

“All right, boys. Let’s get started,” Dr. Cossack said, clapping his hands together and rubbing them eagerly. “The sooner we get this sorted out, the better.”

“Not all of us have arrived. Will that be a problem, doctor?” Pharaoh asked.

“Ehhh, it’ll be fine.” Dr. Cossack waved a dismissive hand. “Dust Man is cleaning up the citadel, he’ll be along when the north tower is done.” He booted up the supercomputer in the corner flanked by robot maintenance stations.

“I thought we were considered nonfunctional.”

“Don’t you sass me, Pharaoh. You’re my units and my responsibility. I’ll answer to no one about having you work on my own property.”

Drill Man spoke up from the back of the cluster of robots. “Uh, ‘scuse me, but… Why _are_ we nonfunctional? Something happen?”

“Yeah, doc,” Skull Man chimed in, leaning forward and off the wall he was lurking around on. “Can we lay it to rest already? I’d say it’s getting under my skin, but… y’know.”

“Toad Man, you’re first. Up you go,” the doctor instructed, pointing to one of the stations. He looked out over the field of cartoonish, robotic goggle-eyes staring expectantly back at him, and sighed. “I suppose you may as well know. Pharaoh Man, turn on the news,” he said, and waved a hand at the television mounted to the ceiling in the corner.

“Certainly. What station?”

“At this point,” Dr. Cossack said, settling in at his computer terminal and cracking his knuckles like a pro, “I don’t think it matters.”

That elicited an uncomfortable series of glances around the group. That sort of coverage likely meant something big was happening, and it was obviously something bad. And given that it involved robots, that almost certainly meant…

“Oh, no.” All eyes turned on Toad Man, who paused in the middle of hooking himself up to the machine to ask worriedly, “It’s that Dr. Wily character again, isn’t it?”

“How do you figure that?” Tundra Man asked. Of all the Cossack numbers, DCN-009 was by far the newest, barely a year and a half on his feet, and had not been around to witness several of the mad doctor's wretched shenanigans.

Pharaoh Man shook his head. “Oh, trust us - it’s _always_ Dr. Wily," he agreed.

“What about that robot tournament a few years back?" Drill Man chimed in. "That Mr. X guy stole ‘em all, and-”

“No, that was Wily in disguise.”

“Oh! What about that big space robot that came to Earth?” Skull Man added, jumping in. “He brought all that ‘evil energy’ and made super-strong evil robots that-”

Toad Man waved his hands in protest. “No, no! He was the good guy! Wily was using the evil energy for… Uhh, evil.”

“Didn’t a bunch of Light-bots go berserk again a little while ago? The UFO guy, and the fish lady...”

“Wily reprogrammed them.”

“Roboenza...?” Drill Man asked uncertainly.

“Pharaoh Man! For the love of-! _Turn on the blasted television!_ ” Dr. Cossack shouted, prompting Toad Man to stand up very straight and still in his spot. Pharaoh hastily found the remote control and tuned into a news network, and the next few minutes everyone spent watching quietly while the doctor worked.

_“... robot museums left gutted of many functional exhibits, and the most automated cities in the world scrambling to reorganize with human resources as society attempts to solve this crisis. In the meantime, more and more robot master units are coming down with this mutated strain of the roboenza virus thought to have been cleansed from robot networks nearly two years ago. Roboenza-M, now being referred to as REM by electropathologists-”_

“That’s a job?”

“Shh!”

_“... delayed onset. We are entering hour 31 of the REM crisis. All robot masters containing any trace of Dr. Albert Wily’s programming, any affected by the original roboenza strain, as well as any that share networking channels with the former two groups, are now considered potential carriers, and could go truant from command at any moment in the future. Robotics companies as well as private owners and lessees are urged to surrender or suspend any robot master units that may be affected for testing.”_

“Just like in the PSAs,” Skull Man went on chattering. “You network with one robot master, you network with every robot master they’ve ever been with.”

“Oh, no… Oh no, no, no, oh nooo…”

Cossack turned around, frowning. “Toad Man, please stop fretting so much, it’s compounding your cognition records and they’re messy enough as it is.”

“Sorry. I have a lot of time to think out in the fields. All by myself…”

_“... contacted by the criminal scientist, and received a video file containing what authorities are taking as his confession, as well as his thoughts on the crisis and his part played in orchestrating it.”_

“Oh, this oughta be good.”

“Sshhhh!”

The video of Dr. Wily’s “confession” was characteristically over-the-top, consisting of a lot of laughing and hooting, wild gesticulation, ravings of superiority, and spinning around in a tall, skull-shaped chair.

_“HA HA HA HA HA! You see this?! This is what we call playing the long game, you complacent fools! You thought I would just hand out a cure and end my greatest feat of mass-reprogramming yet? My virus has been spreading benignly while you rested secure in your belief that the threat was over! This is merely the next phase of my latest, greatest plan, yet by my estimation, there are already at least twice as many affected robot masters now as there were before! And you all just let it happen! Even your beloved visionary Thomas Light could not see the intricate weave of my diabolical genius! Where is your vision now, hm? Hooh, ha ha ha hah!!”_

“Huh. So he _was_ behind roboenza,” Drill Man mumbled.

“He likes to hear himself talk, doesn’t he?” Skull Man noted, crossing his arms a little smugly.

“Yes,” Pharaoh said, turning his head slowly and deliberately to look him in the eye. “Perhaps you should be tested next, as you clearly have at least that much Wily in you.”

All eyes turned on Skull Man, who went onto his back foot and put his hands up defensively. “Whoa, whoa, easy! I know we’re, uh… dying to get to the bottom of this, but this is a little tomb much, don’t you think?”

“Skull Man, stop that. Boys, relax. Now is not the time to be pointing fingers.” Cossack went on reviewing lines of code, then paused, and slumped a little in his chair. “Although… perhaps it would be wise to test the XXXR models next, before the others.”

Pharaoh lifted his hand to his chest, looking inward as he contemplated the situation.

 _“With the reckoning of the REM virus, and as infection continues to accelerate, the murmurs of this new robot crisis have swiftly become a full-scale emergency. For the people, automatic registration of units for testing has been enacted on a national level in many countries. We will continue to document the facts as they are revealed. The world’s greatest roboticists and virus busters are being contacted in the midst of Wily’s latest criminal pageant, in order to solve this crisis before we are out of time. As for me, I…”_ The reporter, a pink robot in a metal pantsuit, was gently accosted from either side by human coworkers. _“... I need to report to the lab. Just to be sure I’m still in the green. For ROZX channel 25, I’m Anne Tenna, signing off for now.”_

“So, any one of us could be infected with the dormant roboenza-M,” Pharaoh said, and turned the volume down on the television.

“Any or all of you,” Cossack reminded him promptly. There was a heavy quiet amongst them.

“Well… It’ll be over soon,” Toad Man said with a lightness in his voice. “We know how these things go. The next time we see a report on TV, it’ll be about Mega Man, jumping through the door and saving the day.”

"Right... So, could we change the channel?" Tundra piped up from the back. "There's a competition on that I'd like to-"

“All right, I’ll say it,” Drill Man cut in. “Am I the only one who can’t believe we’re still getting the news from the TV in 20XX?”

Dr. Cossack took a deep breath, keeping his eyes on his work, and told them. “Mega Man is… nonfunctional.”

Pharaoh stumbled forward, almost losing his balance as he tried to process that. “What?”

“Dr. Light has not had the time to speak with me about the issue at length. But Mega Man was, at least in part, built and programmed by Dr. Wily, and at some point was a carrier of the original roboenza. I can make assumptions,” he said softly, nearly staring a hole into the screen. Quiet took over the room again, before the doctor broke it. “Toad Man. Please calm down or this is going to take all night.”

“But I’m scared!”

“‘The next phase’,” came a cautious, somewhat nasal voice that had not spoken up before now. Bright Man’s bulb flickered as he mulled something over, which Pharaoh found kind of funny.

“Come again?” Pharaoh asked.

“Wily said this was ‘merely the next phase’ of his plan. That implies there’s significantly more to this new scheme of his than just sending half of the world’s robots berserk.”

Cossack pinched the bridge of his nose. “Toad Man, _please._ ”

“Sorry,” he croaked weakly. “So then… what do we do?” the poor, rattled amphibian asked the room.

“We keep you here for now, test your systems, examine your code,” Cossack explained calmly as he scanned the readout on screen with his finger. “And once we’ve ensured you’re all clean, or failing that, _make_ you clean, we can move on to the next step.”

“Which is?” Toad Man hopefully asked.

Dr. Cossack let a moment go by without response. “You let me worry about that,” he finally said. They all knew what it meant. There was no next step, and he _was_ worried about it.

“So do we know for sure that Dust Man is cleaning, and not ransacking the citadel and shredding family tapestries and-”

“Drill,” Pharaoh nudged.

“For sure, though? I’m just asking.”

Dr. Cossack resisted going back on his stubborn decision for about ten seconds, then pulled up his robots’ communication network in another window, and hastily recalled his favorite vacuum from service.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: So, I needed a little break from writing all the doom and tragedy of Scorching Sand. I'm pretty fond of the characters introduced in Mega Man 4, and I needed an outlet for some humour, so... here we go! I'll tell you right now, I'm winging it here. No regular updates, no plans, no outline; just something I can turn to when I need to write something fun. See you when I see you!
> 
> By the way, this chapter is full of references, as the rest of the story will probably be too. See if you can spot them all! Or don't, whatever, I'm not your boss.


	2. Parameters

“I’ve reactivated him at least a dozen times, now.” The image of Dr. Light on the vidcom was shockingly harrowed. Cossack had a feeling the man hadn’t slept in a long while. There were bags under his eyes, and coffee stains in his beard. Light was an older fellow but his hands were steady, so that was a little alarming. “At first his boot routines look normal, but the infected lines start showing up, and…” Light lowered his head and seemed to try and rub the stress out of his own face. “The corruption happens so quickly, he doesn’t even have time to lift a finger before I have to abort the startup.”

“Was his behaviour abnormal, before you shut him down?” Cossack asked, his fingers laced and his tone cautious. “Mine aren’t showing symptoms, but until I check every line of vulnerable code…”

“No. Well… Yes.” Light shook his head, as if to rattle his thoughts into place. “It’s not like last time. He doesn’t act fluish or ill. But his processing speed has slowed down, and he... started to turn on us.”

“What?” Cossack shot up in his seat. Out of commission was one thing, but Mega Man going rogue...

“No, no. I shouldn’t say it like that. He didn’t jump up and start destroying my lab, thank goodness. But he wasn’t answering me right away. And when he did, he seemed... “ Tom looked behind himself and off camera, as he had several times now, where Rock was presumably lying inert. Light liked to lay his robots down for maintenance, despite their ability to lock their servos and rest while standing. It was a charmingly human touch, but Cossack personally preferred not to have to grab and flip over a two hundred kilogram robot just to reach a back panel.

“Tom?”

“He was very hesitant to listen to me. He said he wanted to talk to Wily. He tried to leave. It took a lot of effort to keep him here. Appealing to every sense he had left.”

“Oh, no,” Cossack mumbled, deflating in his seat. “He’s reprogramming them. He’s taking control of robots through this virus.”

“No, not exactly. From what I hear, a lot of robots have been wandering off, but they’re not being controlled directly. It’s not that kind of program from what I can tell. It’s not even rewriting code, it’s just adding… layers. New objectives. I can’t begin to decipher them, there’s so much and it only appears while he’s running.”

“Once again, Dr. Wily proves his eagerness to ride the shoulders of other roboticists, while pissing down the backs of their necks.” Encouragingly, Light laughed. “Is it too late to hope that those objectives are beneficial to us? ‘Sit down, shut up and let me fix you,’ for example.”

Light’s smile faltered. “I’m afraid so.” They both paused, thinking. Cossack looked to the empty station next to him, which he’d fill with another robot as soon as the call was over. He wasn’t halfway through testing his own robots. Light looked behind again, and expelled a sullen sigh. “It’s bad, Mikhail.”

“I know.”

“He’s not handing out a cure this time. If it was ever a cure at all - did you see his message to the world?”

“I did.”

“He’s right. He’s right, I never saw this coming,” Light said, hiding his face in his hands momentarily. “It’s bad,” he repeated.

“We’ll fix this,” he assured his colleague. “I should get back to work.” Cossack propped himself up at his station.

“He’s taking my boy away, Mikhail…”

“No, he’s not. We will not let him. Get some sleep, it’s getting to you.” He had a thought. “What about Roll? Is she still active? She was infected with the original roboenza.”

Light took a sharp, cleansing breath. “Yes, she’s still up. I isolated the roboenza-M lines in her system. Without time to fully analyze the virus all I can do is work around it. She’s still infected, but I wrote a loop around its sectors to keep it out of her thoughts. That should buy her some time while we sort Rock out.”

“That’s… daring. And that actually worked?” Cossack asked, unable to hide his surprise. “You never cease to impress, Thomas.”

He waved his hand, dismissing the praise. “I’ll send you a copy of the code so you can adapt the process.” Light yawned, and scratched his beard. His fingers picked up a bit of the stain in it, and he tried with visible distaste to flick it off his fingertips.

“Have Roll send it. Go to bed, Tom. I mean it.” He paused. “Actually… put Roll on. Then go to bed.”

“What? Why Roll?”

“Put her on and go to bed. So help me, I’ll send one of my boys to forcibly tuck you in.”

Light let out one last wheezing chuckle at that, and got up from the console, without turning it off. He didn’t say anything along the lines of “good night” either, which was discouraging, but a moment later a familiar little girl in a red dress sat down in his place. “Good evening, Dr. Cossack.”

“Morning, actually. So… How are you feeling, Roll?”

“Well… my brother is stuck in stasis while Wily has his way with the world. So I guess I’m kind of nervous,” she admitted, but that wasn’t what Cossack was looking for, so he cut right to the point.

“I’m sorry to hear that, but what about your mind? Dr. Light said you were infected.” She shrank down a little in her seat, looking away, and he suddenly felt guilty, as if he was confronting her with a personal secret. “It’s, er… It’s not your fault of course,” he added.

“I know…”

“How do you feel? Light said he wrote a patch for you,” Cossack prodded, still eager for any bit of information he could get.

Roll nodded slowly, her lips tightening in a perseverant expression. Cossack was consistently impressed by the humanity of Light’s robots. He mostly avoided giving his own numbers complete faces, preferring to focus on the eyes; those that had more were limited to very simple expressions, like Dive Man’s almost perpetual grimace. Watching Rock and Roll emote was a hauntingly human interaction. 

“I feel… different,” she struggled out. “I still feel like me, but Wily’s new virus keeps... telling me something. But then the patch loop makes me forget what it was.” Her head sank and she brought her fingers up to her temples. “I just feel like I’m wrong about everything. Like I’m always being corrected by both sides. Does that make sense? Please say it does,” she asked, her curled fists mashing the sides of her head through the stress.

“I understand. I wish you had more to tell, but I think I understand. I’m sorry that this has been so hard for you, Roll. But, could you do something for me?” She agreed readily, which he expected; no matter her condition, Roll was a helper. “Dr. Light looks terrible. He needs to sleep. Make sure he goes to bed, and if he tries to get up after fewer than eight-” He reconsidered, knowing time was a factor and Light was, to put it conservatively, important to the recovery effort. “... Five hours. Make sure he sleeps at least that long. If he tries to get up, I want you to put him back to bed. He’s hurting himself.”

“I can’t disobey his orders, doctor...”

“He is _hurting_ himself. Roll, your f-ffffather,” he struggled out, after deciding it was too late to take back the first word that had come to mind, silly as it seemed to him, “is no spring chicken. Keep the old man in bed until he stops looking like a pile of laundry. … And have him take a shower. I’m only guessing, but-”

“No, that one makes sense. The chemical spectrometer up my nose has some stories to tell. I’ll… do what I can,” she agreed, typing quickly. “Here. I’m sending you a copy of the quarantine loop Dr. Light patched me with. Implementation instructions are in the code comments. The moment any of your boys start acting funny, put them under and apply the patch. If you can make it work for them, maybe we can engineer an adaptable version, and supply it to the public.”

“An excellent idea, from LightLabs’ top apprentice,” Cossack said, offering her a smile, which she returned in pearly-white spades. “I’m sorry, but I really have to finish up with my boys before things have a chance to go completely haywire here.”

“Oh, of course! Don’t mind me!” Roll bowed in her seat. “Good night, Dr. Cossack.”

“Good morning, Roll, and thank you for your help. Remember, five hours,” he said, and waved a finger at her. She nodded dutifully, and stood by until he ended the transmission.

Cossack opened the online drive containing the quarantine patch, and began inspecting the code. It was a lucky thing that adaptation to a crisis was something of a specialty for Dr. Light, and it was fair to say the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. He could only hope that, by seeing to it that Light stayed in bed, he wasn’t stomping all over the world’s chances of recovery.

“Huh. Light’s American, isn’t he?” Skull Man spoke up from the corner, shaking Cossack from his worries.

“Hm? Er, yes. I believe he is English-born, but he’s been an American citizen for most of his career.” Cossack leaned back in his chair, resting his arms. He’d been coding for hours, and his elbows and wrists were both starting to feel like balloons full of granite and chicken bones. Against his best appraisal of the urgency at hand, he elected to take a moment to chat with one of his battle-bots. Another of them, Pharaoh Man, was lurking nearby as well. Skull Man had finished his checkup just before the call to LightLabs, while Pharaoh just had a tendency to hover around the doctor and the young mistress somewhat when he was home. There was no escaping his reputation as a “papa’s boy”.

“So, what’s the story with the bowing?” Skull asked, mimicking the gesture. “I’ve seen Rock do that on TV after interviews too. Isn’t that a Japanese thing?”

Dr. Cossack nodded. “It is. Dr. Light has spent a great deal of time in Japan, it being the cradle of modern robotics. As have I, naturally. He’s fond of adapting Japanese mannerisms into his robots’ behaviour.” He looked off to one side for a moment, and added, “I think he went well over par with the big green one. But regardless, he’s always been good about incorporating a variety of little worldly touches to his machines.”

“What, like King Tut’s headdress there?” Skull asked, jerking his thumb back at Pharaoh, who only squinted in response.

“Well, yes, actually. Light and I both design our robots for service worldwide, so we aim for a sort of international appeal.” International appeal was a leg up he’d sorely needed after the hit to his rep Wily had stuck him with. “He avoids making his too distinctly American, and I’ve tried to keep you all from being too distinctly Russian.”

“Other than Dive Man, obviously.”

“Look, I can indulge a little,” Cossack shot back, pointing an aggressive finger Skull’s way. “Besides, I restrained myself. I stopped short of painting a hammer and sickle instead of an anchor on his chest.” He had, when he’d realized that a symbol of the worker’s strength applied to an autonomous machine would have been uncouth, patriotic or not.

“And the accent-”

“The accent is _classical_ , you philistine.” Dive Man’s thick _russkii_ accent (and complementary broken English) really tied his whole caricature together, in Cossack’s opinion. All his robots had been given different accents in pursuit of that worldly appeal he desired. Drill’s was fresh from the Canadian prairies where he did a lot of his work, and Dust Man sounded French because no one had explained to Cossack that “French maid” wasn’t so much a cultural touchstone as it was a stereotype with a pretty off-colour modern interpretation. Tundra Man had been given a clean trans-Atlantic accent for reporting to English-speaking lessees across the globe, though to the doctor's confusion he'd been taking on a rather inexplicable (and decidedly theatrical) affectation lately. Bright Man’s accent was a painstakingly recreated Serbian one in honour of Tesla, though in practice it mostly resulted in people outside Europe saying he sounded like Dive Man.

Skull’s voice had originally been modeled after Dr. Wily’s long-since Americanized growling, at the mad doctor’s request. But Cossack had later mellowed it out some and removed most of what made it sound like the man who had just about ruined his life. “Yeah, okay, doc. So why’s Pharaoh sound like an English duke?”

Cossack shrugged. “Ehh, it makes him sound like the movies.”

Pharaoh perked up and asked, “ _What_ movies?”

“Old movies. It’s not important.”

Skull Man snickered. “And Ring’s Australian because… what? Boomerangs?”

Cossack groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, I… Because I had to build him on short notice and that voice module was royalty-free.” That was a lie. It was the boomerangs. But he wasn’t about to admit that any more than he’d admit what had happened with Dust Man. “Skull Man, your test came back clean. You’re done. Go play,” he said, waving his hand to dismiss his robot.

“Whatever you say, doc.” He passed by Pharaoh, and slapped him on the arm. “Good luck on your test, Tut.” He disappeared up a set of stairs, leaving Dr. Cossack and Pharaoh Man alone.

Releasing an exasperated sigh, Cossack fell back into his chair and rubbed his aching brow. “Sometimes I think he earnestly tries to be as abrasive as possible.”

“Perhaps he’s just pent-up. A robot without work to do can start to feel a little tightly-wound.” There was one other chair in the room, but Pharaoh stood standing, as he always did unless told otherwise. He himself had a reputation for being tightly-wound due to his rigorous behaviour, but the truth was, he had a very peaceful mind, most of the time. He was a leader and protector - that was his function, as a guide robot for expeditions into old, hostile ruins - and it felt right to be attentive, rational, and ready. To behave so was a sign that he was in his right mind, and that others were safe with him. In the middle of this REM crisis, he valued that feeling even more.

“Still, I fail to see how engaging in such behaviour benefits him,” Cossack replied, but leaned forward attentively, interested to hear an answer straight from the source. Robotic cognition was still a frontier, even after years of R&D.

“He wants attention,” Pharaoh said simply. “It’s likely that he feels as if he has no purpose and thus is being forgotten. Or vice-versa, perhaps. I can only imagine that with things as dire as they are, he feels even more frustrated than usual that he’s not allowed to… well, to destroy anything.”

“It’s been unusually quiet, for a Wily crisis. Most robots are simply walking off the job; no violence unless they’re forcibly detained. There’s been notably less in the way of mayhem compared to his last few attacks. A relatively peaceful disruption doesn’t warrant a violent response; that may only make things worse.”

“I understand.”

Cossack stopped, considering something. “Still, though. Preparations may be in order. With Mega Man out of the picture for now, if fighting _does_ break out…” He laced his fingers against his mouth, pondering the uncomfortable, then looked up. “Pharaoh Man," he said, leaning back as if commanding an interview. "Skull Man and Ring Man were ordered to help you develop your combat abilities. That was, what? A year ago? Have you made notable progress with their assistance?” The Wily incident was well in the past now. Though Pharaoh Man had been rebuilt in his original form as a service robot very soon after the crisis, it'd only been a few years ago that Cossack had made the decision to dig out the Wily schematics and overhaul Pharaoh again, returning him to combat readiness and then some. Since then he'd still mostly worked in Egypt; only last year had Cossack told him to really get down to business polishing his combat functions, even turning down a service lease to ensure there was time to do so.

“I believe so. My specialty weapons require extremely judicious use due to their highly destructive nature, but I’m confident in my fine-tuning thus far. I feel I’m developing my secondary function well, doctor.”

“That’s good to hear. I know fighting isn’t your focus, but keep it up. No reason you shouldn’t have multiple skills to offer if you’ve got the capacity for it.”

Pharaoh bowed his head in agreement. “Of course, doctor.” He changed the subject. “While I’m here, would you like me to submit myself for testing?” Though he didn’t show it, he was eager to confirm his own health.

Cossack mulled it over. “... No. I think I should call Ring Man down next. I’ve been talking to you since you came home, and I haven’t noticed anything odd in your behaviour. Ring Man is a robot of few words; I’m not sure I could spot a change in him if it were there.” He brought up the communication network again. “DCN-007R. Report for testing now, please.” Keeping wireless lines open was a bit risky under the circumstances, but they had all been instructed to disregard any unknown or suspicious transmissions, refuse file transfers, and use their best judgement to avoid infection from outside sources. Cossack preferred that his robots stay in touch with each other, and with him, until all this was resolved.

“Ring Man is a combat robot as well,” Pharaoh Man blurted out, realizing a flaw in his logic, “but he’s never been as unruly as Skull Man. I could be wrong about him.”

“Well, Skull Man does have a little Wily in him, even after his overhaul. The old man wanted him rowdy.” He’d gotten quite practiced at discussing the past in a matter-of-fact way. It was a terrible chapter of his life that nonetheless created all manner of precedents he’d be dealing with forever. “But that said, Ring Man has always had a more serious disposition. And as such, I’ve been able to trust him with a few odd jobs. Duties a little more delicate than the occasional paramilitary contract. So he does see more action than Skull Man. … Maybe you’re right.”

“It’s possible. Skull Man doesn’t really hold long conversations, so it can be difficult to understand him. I’m making some assumptions.”

“How are your team tactics?” Cossack asked abruptly. “Are the three of you working together well in combat simulations?”

“Very well, I think.”

Cossack drew his head back a little, genuinely surprised. “Really?”

“Skull Man has been a zealous ally in combat scenarios. He is in his element. Ring Man is precise and agreeable. I strive to adapt to fill the space between them. Altogether, we are a highly functional unit.” He paused. “It _would_ be helpful if one of us were assigned a leadership role…”

“Are you referring to yourself?”

“No,” he said quickly, not wanting to appear presumptuous.

“Good. Because while you may be a born leader in a sense, you’re far too new to combat to command a team. The other two aren’t leading material either; Ring Man is too passive, and Skull Man lacks subtlety.” He fixed Pharaoh Man with a serious, scrutinous look. “I’m sure there is friction, but friction yields polish. None of you are fit to lead a combat team, so I expect you to act as equals and develop as a cooperative unit. Is that understood?”

“Yes, doctor. I understand.”

“Good,” Cossack said, rubbing his poor wrists as the sound of Ring Man’s feet on the stairs heralded another few hours of testing and coding. He turned back to his terminal to ensure everything was ready. “Once Ring Man is finished, you’ll be up next. With the R-models tested and clean, we’ll be that much safer regardless of what comes next.”

Ring Man passed Pharaoh by, and the two of them shared something halfway between a high-five and a handshake. “G’day, king. How’s your head?”

“Still clear, for the moment.” Ring gave him a firm nod. “And yourself?” Pharaoh asked as Ring set himself up on the connection terminal.

“Dunno,” he shrugged. “Let’s see.”

Pharaoh turned back to the doctor. “Well, he seems normal to me.” That prompted a miniature laugh from Ring, and a grunt from Dr. Cossack, whose hands were already at work. All three of them let a wordless moment go by uninterrupted, and it was the quietest the lab had been since Skull Man had come in for testing. But something was on Pharaoh’s mind, and the question was loud enough in his head that he felt compelled to voice it. “Dr. Cossack? Why _did_ you rebuild me as an XXXR-model?”

“Hm?” Cossack grunted again, not really hearing. His fingers were flying over the keyboard and whipping across the two touch screens next to his monitor. He was already getting lost in his work. Ring Man had heard the question though, and was glancing curiously between the two of them, now aware he’d missed some kind of a talk.

Taking whatever the robotic equivalent of a breath was, he posed the question as clearly as possible. “Why did you rebuild me with my combat functions intact, and not the other five noncombatant units?” Finally hearing the concern, Cossack sat up and rubbed his chin, leaving one hand on the keys.

“It’s complicated, Pharaoh Man.” He cleared his throat and went back to squinting into three different screens. When Pharaoh didn’t say anything else, Cossack glanced toward him just long enough to confirm that he was still waiting for a response. “Later. I’ve just gotten the ball rolling on Ring Man. Let me work. I want to try and finish in under six hours this time, if I can,” he added, exhaustion creeping into his voice as he settled in to run the same lengthy testing process for the third time. If he didn’t streamline it, it was liable to put him in the same state of affairs Thomas Light was currently in.

“As you wish. I’ll attend to the young mistress Kalinka for the time being. I believe she normally wakes-”

“Yes. Thank you, Pharaoh Man. I’ll call for you when I’m ready to begin your tests.” Dr. Cossack dismissed him, and dutifully he turned and left. He hadn’t been told to drop the issue, of course, and so he wouldn’t. For the last few years since being rebuilt, he had been developing himself as a combat unit - as a weapon. Wily had done what Wily does several times during those years, but Mega Man had then done what Mega Man does, while Pharaoh Man and his fellows remained in relative peace. So to him, developing this new function was just another duty.

It wasn’t until now, when his power was once again a possible threat to humanity, that he questioned the doctor’s decision. He lacked Ring Man’s laserlike focus and deadly aim in combat, and Skull Man’s sometimes unsettling ability to cause and control ludicrous amounts of destruction. He was a rookie, of course, but even putting that aside, he felt like a third wheel. His assignment seemed irrational.

-

In a fight, that is. Among those he was closest to, he felt more like the guardian he was.

Kalinka was already awake and dressed by the time he came to her room, which was fortunate. Making difficult decisions for lost humans was part of his function, but when it came to fashion he fell a little short in that regard, or so experience had taught him. (Unless the young mistress was in the mood for yellow.)

The two of them made their way down one of the long hallways of the citadel. The old place was still quite livable, kept in good repair and its inhabited spaces updated with more modern decor skirting the traditional fixtures. Kalinka’s room was the most modern of all, naturally. It was practically the citadel’s embassy of The Republic of Things That Make Dads Squint and Groan. Her being both a teenager and a university sophomore ensured that Dr. Cossack had nothing to do but stand back and allow her to… express.

Seeing printed-out segments from stirring interviews regarding valued emergent products of electronic intellects hung immediately next to posters for _Positronic_ , a film series based on a book series revolving around the tragic yet scintillating romance between a woman and several handsome, feuding automata, had effected a dizzying whiplash for Dr. Cossack. Somewhat less jarring was her newfound affinity for the kitsch neon grids and prints of the 1980s. To her, it was “appreciating the frontier-gazing wonder of the era in which computers found their pedestal in popular culture”. To her father, it was “crappy pink sprinkles of American nostalgia”.

The halls, naturally then, were decorated a bit more classically. Kalinka could jazz up her room how she liked, but her father wasn’t about to let her jazz away the rich charm of the whole family citadel. His precious tapestries would remain at least until the old home was officially passed on to her. One more reason for Mikhail Cossack to live a good, long life.

Kalinka was still fussing with her belt, refusing to clasp it looser than she had last month, struggling to claim the well-worn notch and grumbling at Pharaoh. “Excuse me? I am _not_ ‘getting bigger’. I exercise five times a week!” she said indignantly, choking off the last few words with another strain of her belt.

“I spoke imprecisely, young mistress. You are _growing_.” Pharaoh Man was walking in front of her, leading her to the kitchen. Perhaps not necessary, even after all those months Kalinka had spent away from the sprawl of Cossack Citadel, but the gesture came naturally. “You are still only sixteen. It’s to be expected that you’ll outgrow a few more things.”

“I like this belt…”

“Well, then put a few more holes in.”

“I just said I _like_ it!” 

Pharaoh Man said nothing. _Humans_ , he thought to himself, amused.

“And I am an adult now, you know,” she assured him, quietly acquiescing and choosing the farther notch. Pharaoh Man started to again remind her of her age, but she cut him off. “I am in university! Advanced classes! You are not to treat me as a child!”

“And yet, you grow,” he said just a little too smugly. She growled at him from behind, and he regretted it, and said nothing else until she spoke again.

“Is papa awake yet? How were things last night?”

“Dr. Cossack is still hard at work, young mistress. I believe he wishes not to be interrupted. He says he’s ‘streamlining’ his labours, and is very much focused on the task.”

“Has he eaten?”

Pharaoh had to think for a second. Dr. Cossack had eaten in the last twenty-four hours, but… “Perhaps not sufficiently.”

“I had a feeling. Well, then I’m cooking for two.”

“May I?” Pharaoh said without thinking. He was beginning to develop a fever of the cabin variety, and the only prescription was more work.

“You can’t cook,” she said, shaking her head at him.

“On the contrary, I can follow a recipe quite precisely.”

“But you can’t _cook_ ,” she assured him with a playful smile.

He processed that for a moment, then decided to file it under “human assertions to decipher later” and close the book for now. “If you say so. I shall defer to you, young mistress.”

He heard her stop, and sigh. When he turned around, she was looking rather sulky, her arms limply crossed. “You know… You don’t have to keep calling me that. I told you, I’m not a child anymore.”

“Ah. Of course.” Pharaoh bowed his head briefly. “As you wish, mistress.”

Throwing her arms down, Kalinka scoffed. “You don’t have to call me _that_ , either!”

Doing his best to read the situation, Pharaoh put a pensive knuckle to his chin and made a show of it. “If you’re asking me to start calling you ‘doctor,’ I’m afraid that would be rather improper before you’ve finished your degree.” His eyes lit up with a hint of humour.

Rather than staying irate, she surprised him by looking rather sheepish. “Or you could… just call me Kalinka, maybe?” He responded with actual pensiveness this time, and she pushed a little harder. “Why is that strange to you? I’ve known you since I was seven! Why shouldn’t we be… Why shouldn’t _family_ be _familiar?_ ” she demanded. The question was a heavily loaded one, which Pharaoh was not at all ready to process in full. There were a dozen things he could have said in response, but he went with the safest, the option least likely to upset her further.

“I understand.” She stared him down, gently but expectantly, and he obliged. “Let’s attend to breakfast then… Kalinka.”

She surprised him again, by dashing up and embracing his arm. “Yes! … Thank you,” she added, and started off down the hall again, with Pharaoh in tow.

“Of course. I live to serve, mistress Kalinka. Thy will be done.” She stopped and let him pass, frowning at him. “I’m sorry. I’m… trying to be funny.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said, and caught up beside him. “... You know, it’s weird that you’re somehow even more butlery than Dust Man.”

-

Dr. Cossack had been rapt by his work as expected when they took his breakfast down to him. There was little room on his desk, but Kalinka had had the presence of mind to cram his full serving of blini and fruit onto a plate barely larger than a saucer before delivering it, so she’d been just able to balance it somewhere clear of his elbows (while Pharaoh looked for a place to stow a cup of tea). After a quick stretch, a bite, and a kiss to his daughter’s cheek, he’d gotten right back to it, and Kalinka and Pharaoh had hastened back to the kitchen before her own could get cold.

“How do you feel so far, Pharaoh?” Kalinka took one more bite of doughy goodness, and set her fork down next to the remainder so her stomach could settle a bit.

“I’m well,” he said quickly. “Believe me, since the outset I’ve been quite diligently introspective, miss Kalinka.”

“Kalinka,” she corrected him. Dust Man sauntered by, and seeing the plate and silverware resting in front of her, moved to collect her dishes and table scraps. She moved fast to rescue her food from his clutches. “Oh! Still eating, thank you, Dust Man.” He relinquished it, and went back to cleaning the kitchen.

“Kalinka, yes. I’m sorry,” Pharaoh said, standing off to one side as was his custom. “What about you? Is school going well?”

He caught her mid-bite with the question, and she had to work down a wad of buckwheat and berries to answer, pushing her plate away as she struggled a little. “It’s, um… fine. My grades are good. Pharaoh, is it really that hard to call me by my name? Can’t you just… I don’t know, switch some numbers around in your head, and...?”

Pharaoh Man shook his head. “No. Not anymore, I should say.”

“Anymore? Hey!” Kalinka slapped at Dust Man’s hand. “I’m going to eat it, okay? Every bite!”

“Apologies.”

“If you want to wait tables today, could you get me a glass of juice? Or, no. Coffee. _Tea!_ There’s tea in the pot. … Please,” she stammered out.

“Mais oui. Just a moment.”

“Ah, drinking adult drinks. Like an adult might do,” Pharaoh teased. “How very adu-”

“They’re all adult drinks! Adults drink juice!”

“Of course.”

Kalinka began to blush, hiding it by putting her elbows on the table and cradling her cheeks in her hands. “Would you sit down?! Stop making me crane my neck up at you,” she scolded, and he obliged, pulling up a chair next to her. “What did you mean, you can’t switch numbers around anymore?”

“I am well over nine years old now,” Pharaoh answered plainly. “The greatest bulk of my memory and processor resources now go toward supporting an increasingly complex sentience and understanding of my duties.” He cradled his own face in the same way, mimicking her. “Performing and cleaning up after copy-and-paste tricks like those has become less efficient than simply relying on my polished AI.”

“So you’re finally seeing yourself as a person, just like I always have. Wonderful!” she chirped, and pulled her plate to herself again, stacking the remainder of her food all onto her fork at once before housekeeping could make it disappear, then shoving it in her mouth.

“No, I- I am still merely a humble robot… Kalinka.”

“Too humble,” she said through the food, swallowing as she finally passed the plate to Dust Man, who second- and third-guessed taking it from her at that point. “You’re self-aware, you understand humour…”

“The meaning of self-awareness in AI is still intensely debated, and humour is merely a tool for regulating tension…”

“And you care about me. And I care about you,” she assured him, her voice taking on a note of unmistakable tenderness.

He didn’t say so, but that statement touched him in a way he couldn’t express. Affection from humans was a sign that a robot was well-liked and thus being everything they were meant to be, and that was a fulfilling knowledge. But the kind of affection Kalinka gave them, deep and constant without regard to their performance, was both confusing and heartening. It was a human thing to do, and he could have written it off as such, but the fact that it meant something extra, something special to him, made him wonder if perhaps he was evolving beyond duty after all.

“I… do care. Of course, the wellbeing of the humans around me is core to my function, even beyond the parameters of the First Law.”

“Oh, don’t you First Law me. I’m not just another person to keep breathing to you, am I? You _care_ about me. … Right?” She leaned in close, and took one of his hands in both of hers. Kalinka always wanted to see more in him than the doctor did. Whatever theories Dr. Cossack would entertain, Kalinka would embellish into the stuff of futurist dreams. What had begun as the dreamy misunderstanding of a child growing up among robots had persisted over years and become the boundary-challenging idealism of a future expert.

Pharaoh held eye contact, both to let her know he was still thinking, and because it helped him think. Kalinka was a priority, of course; that was a standing order from the doctor, ever since the incident. But also: _Humans are to be protected. The young are vulnerable. Her mind is valuable._ His reasoning branched out into a hundred other concepts more complex than he ever could have rendered in his early years of service. _Dr. Cossack is valuable, and his will is tied to Kalinka’s safety. The future rests with today’s children (even the ones who are practically adults now), and the future is everything. Humanity is all humans, and all possible humans. Humanity is nothing without its future, and not itself without its values. Kalinka is young, vulnerable, important, efficacious, unique; she is potential personified. She is humanity’s value. To protect her is to protect a human, and humanity._

And another web of ideas sprang just from the thought that she meant something to him, personally. _I must protect my own existence, as well as hers. She is a part of my development and what I am. She is a part of my existence. I am the same to her. A part of her development, what she is, and her existence. To protect myself is to protect her from the loss of me, and to protect her is to protect myself from the loss of her._ It was a concept that both interweaved with and blanketed the Three Laws and was hard for him to grasp as firmly as them, but it was the truth. _To protect her is to protect everything - Kalinka, the doctor, the world, the future, and myself._ She had asked if he cared for her, and in a moment of confidence, he decided what that meant.

“Yes. I care about you, Kalinka.”

She beamed and leapt from her seat to throw her arms around him. “Ohhh, you big, yellow sweetheart, I know you do!" she sang at him in a syrupy voice, hugging him so energetically she was practically wrestling with him.

Flailing in his seat, Pharaoh didn't have a chance to return the gesture. “Please try not to put me off balance! I don’t want to fall on you!” As a combat robot, he was significantly lighter than most due to some of his heavier metal being replaced by ceratanium, but that didn’t exactly make him a feather pillow.

"You're gyroscopically stabilized, you're fine." Her tea arrived, made to her preference despite her months away from home. “Thank you kindly, Dust Man.” She took a long drink, and let out a hot breath across the table, satisfied. “As much as I appreciate you waiting on me, I hope kitchen duty isn’t keeping you away from anything.”

“Non, madame. The doctor has relieved us all of assigned duties for the time being. I am merely performing minor maintenance according to my best judgement,” he explained, tucking his hands behind his back and standing at attention.

Pharaoh leaned forward, a little listlessly, cradling his head again. “Well, it’s good to stay busy. I suppose we can count ourselves lucky if restlessness and a loss of work is the worst thing this virus does to us, but I can’t help but feel that we’re all going various degrees of stir-crazy, locked down at home like this.”

“D’accord,” Dust agreed. “Life is so unnerving for a servant who’s not serving.” He deployed a spongy floor cleaner on each foot and began mopping up the kitchen tiles, his feet gently vacuuming up the foam like two hungry metal suckerfish. “Ah, those good old days, when we were useful. Suddenly, those good old days are gone...”

“... Quite.”

-

Back in Laboratory 2, it was just slightly less than six hours since the process had begun, and to Dr. Cossack’s immense relief, it was done. Ring stepped off the monitoring station, and shared a firm thump on the forearm with Pharaoh, yet another physical sort of greeting as was his custom.

“Looks like I’m right as rain. I’m gonna sweep the perimeter for any sign of naughty Wilybots, just in case. Good luck, eh king?” he said without stopping his stride.

Pharaoh Man nodded, and stood aside a bit to let him pass in the cramped, work-crowded lab. “Thank you, Ring Man. Be sure to let me know of any naughtiness uncovered.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” he called back, his brassy voice echoing out of the stairwell.

Dr. Cossack leaned back, his chair creaking in harmony with his spine. He had been working for about twenty hours straight with only moderate breaks in between. While that sort of dedication had seemed prudent at first, it was clearly having an effect on him. Nonetheless, once the doctor had deflated into his seat like a beached jellyfish and had not said a word for a substantial moment, Pharaoh Man took it upon himself to ask. “Doctor? Shall I ready myself for inspection now?”

Cossack just groaned, and brought his hands up to rub his eyes with the heels of his hands. After a few seconds, he sighed and said, “Pharaoh Man, you’re fine.”

“But, doctor…”

“You’re _all_ probably fine. I recalled you as quickly as I could and most of you don’t need to network frequently for your jobs. And the Lightbots were most likely specifically targeted…”

“But I _do_ network for my job. So does Dive Man, and- … What?” he asked, noticing that Cossack had sat up again and was regarding him rather pointedly.

Dr. Cossack yawned, slouched, and took a moment to compose himself, still keeping his eyes on Pharaoh Man. “Are you… _afraid?_ ” the doctor asked, clasping his hands between his knees and directing all his attention at Pharaoh.

“I’m very concerned about this. It’s as you said before - it would be better to ensure that all XXXR-models are clean and normal. Our combat abilities, in the wrong hands…” He trailed off as the doctor raised a hand to stop him.

“You’re afraid because you pose a threat to others now, in ways you didn’t as an expedition robot.”

“... Yes. Is that significant?”

Cossack shrugged, and slumped back again. He spun his chair around, letting his eyes focus on nothing as the room turned around him. When another yawn hit him, he made up his mind. “I don’t have the energy for another full inspection, emergency or not. I’m going to bed.”

“Yes, doctor.”

“You’ll be at the top of my list when I wake up, if that helps.” Pharaoh Man just nodded, his mind racing. That web of ideas, of complexities he’d dealt with more and more over the years, every strand was vibrating. The doctor’s voice brought his head up out of the tangle again. “Your new designation and duties. Do they trouble you?”

“Not as such.” Each of them considered what to say next, but Pharaoh spoke first. The question sprang back off the web and to the forefront of his mind. “Dr. Cossack. Why did you rebuild me as a combat robot?”

As if this was a long-anticipated trial, the doctor responded with a resigned sigh. “It’s complicated.”

“Yes, you’ve told me that already.”

“Well, you’ve _asked_ me that already.” Pharaoh lowered his head somewhat penitently, and Cossack clucked his tongue at him. “Oh, stop. I didn’t say I wouldn’t explain. But… be aware that you may not understand.”

“Yes, doctor?”

Cossack reclined and laced his fingers over his chest, staring thoughtfully at the conduits running over the ceiling. “To begin with… there is a conversation I’ve had several times with Dr. Light. You see, I’m grateful for what his boys have done for us. But while Blues is rather… independent, Rock is not. Mega Man fights for justice but he does so with the approval of his creator. And I never… This might sound odd given all the good Mega Man has done for the world, but I didn’t really understand why he continued to _give_ that approval.”

“Do you feel Mega Man has not proven himself yet?”

“It’s not that. Dr. Light… ehhh…” He always struggled to be respectful of this issue; having an actual daughter, to compare to Cossack's relationship with his robots, made Light's feelings on the subject a little harder to empathize with. “He professes to care for his robots in much the same way he might for his own flesh-and-blood children. I don’t know how much of that is truth and how much is just the old man being colourful,” he added, shaking his head, “but if there’s any truth at all to it, then why, I had to ask, does he continue to send his boy into danger? Especially when Rock himself has said he dislikes fighting…”

Feeling a surge of something much like a fanboy’s pride, Pharaoh interjected. “Mega Man is a hero, doctor. He’s trusted and beloved by humanity; he stands above us all, in many ways. To hear history tell it, he was the only one capable of doing what he did.”

Cossack snapped his fingers then, pointing. “Yes! He _was_ the only one. The very first time Wily staged a coup, Rock was one of only two master-type robots in the world not under the madman’s control, and that made his reassignment to combat necessary to repel the threat. His tool-copying system converting well to a weapon generator was a bonus, but he had to be largely rebuilt for his new purpose. It was a last-ditch, sub-optimal decision. But it’s been years, and - as I’ve said to Dr. Light - he’s had all this time to build a new robot that is specifically tailored for combat. A perfect warrior to defend the people. He could have done so years ago, and relieved Rock of a duty he neither enjoys nor was he designed for.” He took a breath in the middle of his ranting. “And do you know what he told me?”

“What’s that, doctor?” At last, the point.

“He said he’s always believed that there was a careful balance to be maintained, between power and responsibility. It would be easy to build a robot with all the power in the world and tell it to fight, but to do so would be reckless. He said that the greater a robot’s power, the more responsibility that power demands - naturally, of course - but also that, for a certain threshold of power, there is a level of responsibility that cannot simply be programmed into a robot. Eventually, AI technology reaches a wall, the Three Laws become inadequate as a safeguard, and simply adding more power, more ability to fight, just becomes irresponsible and dangerous.”

“But Mega Man is different,” Pharaoh said without thinking.

“Yes. Yes, he is. Our ability to program that sort of responsibility has its limits with our current understanding of AI. But Mega Man possesses what Dr. Light believes are emergent qualities. Things that were never planned but which came about as a result of quirk and circumstance. Mega Man does not simply follow orders and obey the Three Laws, even I can see that. He cares. He worries. To him, his responsibilities are deep and personal, and he demonstrates a far broader than normal understanding of them. _That_ is what qualifies him, far more than any other gun-toting battlebot Light could slap together.” He stopped there, looking Pharaoh Man in the eye, seeming to study him. Then an almost mischievous smile stretched over his face. “Pharaoh Man. Recite the Three Laws.”

It took no thought; they were core to his programming, and to all of modern robotics, so they came out with no hesitation. “First Law: A robot must not harm a human being, or through inaction allow a human being to come to harm. Second Law: A robot must obey an order given to it by a human, unless doing so would conflict with the First Law. Third Law: A robot must protect its own existence, unless doing so would conflict with the First or Second Laws.”

“Very good.”

A moment of silence went by unimpeded, and he felt compelled to speak again. “Is that all, doctor?”

“Are you aware of the so-called ‘Zeroth Law’?”

“I’m not… sure.”

“You weren’t programmed with it. No robot is, it’s too difficult to put into definite terms. It’s a, eh… turn-lead-to-gold sort of myth among roboticists.” Dr. Cossack raised a scholarly hand and recited. “Zeroth Law: A robot must not harm humanity, or through inaction allow humanity to come to harm.” Something about that clicked, inside Pharaoh Man’s head. He brought a hand to where his mouth would be, eyes wandering. He could feel gears turning in his mind as clearly as Cossack could see them. “You understand, don’t you?”

“I’m not sure,” Pharaoh repeated.

“I think you do. I think Rock does as well. And I think you both possess an ability for deep thought that is not common among robots. Emergent from quirk and circumstance. What circumstance, who can say?” Cossack laced his fingers again, and kicked his chair off spinning in a circle, looking rather amused. “Your job directly concerns the safety of humans, and of human culture and structures. That could certainly be a factor. And, like Rock, you grew up- eh, well,” he coughed, catching himself talking like that ingenious crackpot again. “Not grew up… You _developed_ in an environment that involved humans and close familial relationships. Id est, my daughter and I. That’s got something to do with it, I would wager. It could be any number of things. It could also just be the peculiar way your 1s and 0s bump into each other.”

The worries he’d been wrestling with since the crisis started were illuminated in an altered light now. So was the talk he’d had with Kalinka hours earlier, it occurred to him. While he couldn’t quite make perfect sense of it all right at that moment, the gears turned faster and faster. “What are you saying, Dr. Cossack?”

“I’m saying you care, Pharaoh Man. You do more than follow orders or Laws. You concern yourself not only with what’s best for those present, but what is best for everyone. I’ve been studying your development for nine years, and… I think Dr. Light is correct. There is an X-factor we cannot reliably reproduce that makes a robot suitable for wielding power. There are others, I’m sure, going unnoticed in the world. But Light has noticed. And I’ve noticed,” he said, pointing at Pharaoh.

“You gave me power because-”

“Because I trust you with it.” Pharaoh Man could feel a swelling in his chest. _I trust you_. That meant everything to him. “You’re awfully quiet. Are you still troubled?”

“Thank you, doctor.”

“For?”

“For trusting me. I can’t imagine a higher praise.” 

Smiling, Cossack leaned forward again, eager and studious. “Explain?”

“Well, for us, for robots, to be praised and further employed is a desirable outcome,” Pharaoh answered, his mouth running a bit with what could only be described as excitement. “Being recommended, even better. But to be trusted - to be told my judgement and execution of duty has been so reliable as to not require human oversight - is… well, I… I’m honoured.”

“Hmm.” Cossack stared, pondering. “I wonder if robots may ever find themselves striving for more than that.” He paused, looking apprehensive. “I wonder if they _should_. Ehh, never mind, it’s no matter right now,” he added, waving the thought away with his hand. “Just know, there _will_ be oversight, Pharaoh Man. But I trust you with a degree of autonomy, and I have faith that you’ll make the right decisions.”

“I’ll make you proud, doctor,” Pharaoh answered, and too overcome to think of anything else to do he bowed at the waist. Then he looked up and said, “Wait. If I’m the one you trust, why did you rebuild Ring Man and Skull Man as combat units as well?”

Cossack shrugged and slouched back. “I made them for Wily; they’ve never been anything _but_ combat units. I mean, what was I supposed to do?” he asked, raising a hand and slapping it down on his knee. “Hire Ring Man out as a crossing guard? Have Skull Man volunteer at the old folks’ home?” he laughed.

Pharaoh shot upright, and emitted a stream of static not unlike the sound of someone sucking a breath in through their teeth. “Er… Yes… On that topic…”

-

One short but stressful conversation full of incredulous questions and brow-rubbing later, Cossack finally stood up from his station. He was yawning again. “I think I’d better take the same advice I gave Tom. I’m going to bed. Wake me in five hours if I don’t get up on my own, hm?”

“As you wish, doctor,” Pharaoh said cheerfully. His mind was buzzing, as it had been for the last day or so, but there was a pleasant note in that buzz now. Things were grim, but the doctor had faith that he’d make the right decisions. That gave him hope.

Dr. Cossack passed him by, but came to a stop and looked back at his computers again. “Come to think of it, Light would have been on his feet again a couple of hours ago. If he listened to me in the first place that is. Perhaps I should… _hooh,_ ” he yawned. “... Check in. Hmph.” He patted Pharaoh’s shoulder. “I’ll let you handle that. Give LightLabs a call, would you? See what’s transpired over the last little while. Maybe a miracle will have happened,” he said, sounding like he believed quite the opposite. “Good night. Or afternoon. Whatever it is,” he mumbled, climbing the stairs and leaving Pharaoh alone in the room.

Pharaoh Man clapped his hands together briskly. “Right.” It was time for him to get to work. To hold down the fort, as they say. Invigorated, he assessed his priorities. His networking was still open to communicate with the others. He checked in, with a flurry of digital messages that only took a few seconds.

_Ring Man. All clear outside? Good. Keep us posted._

_Dust Man. Dr. Cossack must sleep soundly. Is Kalinka well? Good._

_Skull Man. I discussed your volunteer work. Expect a talk. Sorry._

Satisfied with that, he leisurely brought up LightLabs’ contact info from his own databank and prepared for a more traditional conversation with its more human overseer, all still within the efficient camera obscura of his own headspace. Of course, contacting an outside server across the ocean was quite a bit more risky than speaking with the other Cossack-bots around the citadel, but LightLabs was secure - at least enough that Dr. Cossack felt comfortable using the same computer to contact them as he was using to examine his robots.

With a hand on his hip and a sublime, put-together confidence in his big yellow heart, Pharaoh Man put the call in to the lab with the vigor of a freshly appointed executive. And what happened immediately after shook him like a can of yellow spray paint.

The call went through as expected, at first. He recognized the connection. Then it was redirected. That was odd, as LightLabs had taken Dr. Cossack’s call on their central communication line earlier that morning, and Pharaoh was calling the same. Pharaoh’s confidence wavered as the line reconnected, and he recognized it as the networking server of a single robot. He hadn’t expected that. A forest of unknowns sprang up in front of him. Had he made a mistake?

Then a familiar communication signature picked up the conversation, the charming digital voice of someone he knew well enough. _Hi, Pharaoh!_

His worry was replaced by a giddy shock that nearly blew him away, and Pharaoh Man called the name of the robot on the other end both in his mind and aloud.

“Rock?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:  
> tfw you make yourself emotional about robots  
> Boy this, uhh... This story kinda became sorta topical since it was first posted, huh?  
> Anyway, hope everybody enjoys. This went from a no-outline goofball story to like... a real thing with a plan, in the time it took me to write Chapter 2. Not a GREAT plan, mind, but... Well, I'll try to keep the yuks comin' either way. Stay tuned for my favorite chapter thus far in what I would hesitantly call the plot outline!


	3. Can't Get Any Worse

This inner voice Pharaoh was currently listening to over robo-comms didn’t have quite the same tone as Rock’s natural speech, but the boy was recognizable all the same. With relief and joy filling his heart, Pharaoh answered.  _ Rock, is that really you? I thought you were out of commission! _

_ That was hours ago. Dr. Light woke me up earlier, and I feel great! _

_ Then… you’re clean? _ Pharaoh asked.  _ The REM virus, it’s gone? _

_ REM? Is that what they’re calling it? Pffff! They shoulda called it NBD, ‘cuz it’s no big deal! _ Rock’s playful exuberance was as it always had been. That was very encouraging. 

_ Rock, I… I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear you. Your safety means a great deal to us all, and when we heard… Oh! The others! I have to tell the others that you’re all right!  _ Pharaoh said as the giddiness took over again. Rock meant a lot to all robots, in fact. Those who had any capacity to appreciate what was special about Rock, his bond with humans and his depth of thought, and the grand weight and scope of his responsibilities, admired him. And Pharaoh was no exception, this one-on-one with a personal hero making for a tremendous high.  _ This is going to make their day! Especially Toad Man. _

Rock laughed.  _ Aww. Well, how about this - why don’t we make it a surprise? _

_ A… surprise? _

_ Yeah! See, I kinda need your help with something, and I was wondering if you could come over. _

There were several things he could have questioned there, but one immediately jumped out at him, if only because it made him feel very special.  _ Wait, you’re… You’re saying  _ you _ need  _ my _ help? _

_ Sure! I can trust you, right? _

There was that word again. He didn’t even think about his answer; this was becoming a very big day for his ego.  _ Absolutely! _

Rock wordlessly sent a set of coordinates before continuing. A little unnecessary, since Pharaoh could easily look up the coordinates for LightLabs, but a second saved was a second earned.  _ Great! Come and meet me there and I’ll tell you what’s going on. Tell the other Cossack-bots to come too, and we can spring the surprise on them. _

_ I, er… suppose. Do you really want all of us-  _ Pharaoh began to question this odd, impromptu plan of his, but was cut off.

_ Oh, sorry, Pharaoh. The doctor needs something! My head is just full of people today!  _ he said cheerfully.  _ I’ll see you soon, right? Talk to you then! _

Pharaoh tried to respond in the affirmative, but the line was already disconnected. Today was suddenly moving at a breakneck pace compared to the way things had been going. Either way, he didn’t want to keep Rock waiting too long. If Rock was up and about, then Dr. Light had already solved the problem, as he often did, and LightLabs was now a beacon of safety. Perhaps more so than the citadel. He clapped his hands together again, excited to organize this reunion for everyone. He put the call in, eight times over.

_ Attention all active Cossack numbers. This is Pharaoh Man, and I have an incredible surprise for you. Follow these coordinates and teleport as soon as possible. _

Before he could blink (blinking being an aesthetic choice by the doctor, obviously), he received several dubious replies along the lines of, “we’re supposed to stay inside,” and “huh?” Pharaoh grudgingly sent them all an identical elaboration.  _ Dr. Cossack has entrusted me with directing the laboratory while he sleeps.  _ Mostly true. True enough. _ Please join me on a short, secure excursion to LightLabs where our American associates have something to present. I am teleporting now - Pharaoh Man, out. _

He wanted to be the first to arrive, to be there with Rock when the others came in.  _ This will be fun, _ was his last thought before he locked onto one of the citadel’s outbound teleport bands and dematerialized.

On the trip there, his thoughts became a jumble of electromagnetic signals representing where all his 1s and 0s were meant to be when he reappeared. It took a few seconds for all his billions of transistors to be set back into place as the teleport mesh unfurled into physical form, and so the cloud of reality around him cleared up in what to a robot was a very gradual manner. Likewise, his thoughts were forced to travel a slow road in coming to terms with what he saw.

_ LightLabs is dimmer than I remember. It’s quieter, too; no music today. And the walls have been painted. No, they’ve been stripped; I can see conduits. Is that a mountain out the window? LightLabs isn’t in the mountains, it’s in an industrial district of Monsteropolis. _

_ … This isn’t LightLabs. _

That last thought hit him like a fastball to the head. Once he was finally able to take in his surroundings with his normal array of senses, things came together as much as they fell apart. The room he was in was rectangular, like a wide hallway connected to closed doors on its sides and half-filled with reinforced crates. It was lit only by the high windows, through which he could make out the white-brown peaks of mountains. The walls were covered in bare mechanisms, circuitry and insulation, and the exposed wiring of the electronic doors’ input pads. And perhaps just as troubling, Rock was not there. Pharaoh waited for some kind of sign, finally coming down from his high and considering carefully what had transpired.

_ Come meet me there, _ Rock had said. There, not here. Rock wasn’t on site yet, he realized, wherever that site may have been. He had assumed that he was beaming to LightLabs, where Rock would be there to greet him. But clearly he’d misinterpreted something. He began to review the conversation in full, wondering if he’d missed anything else.  _ Why don’t we make it a surprise? I can trust you right? REM is NBD! The doctor needs something! _

_ My head is just full of people today!  _ In the quiet of this room, without the rush of his back-and-forth with Rock, there was something inexplicably disturbing about that phrase. But the place didn’t stay quiet for long.

The sound of an inbound teleport pulled him out of his thoughts. Toad Man was the first to join, and from his expression and the worried way he looked around, Pharaoh could tell he was going through a similar series of realizations as Pharaoh had. “Toad Man! You’re here! I have great news! … Er, I think.”

“You think?” Toad asked, squinting at him. “Hey, um… This isn’t LightLabs.”

“Yes, I’ve made that assessment myself, actually.”

“What do you mean, you made-” Another teleport, and one more right behind it. Tundra Man and Drill Man.

“Hey, Pharaoh, how’re ya now?” Drill asked jovially. 

“This isn’t LightLabs,” Tundra cut in.

Pharaoh nodded. “Yes, I know.”

Two more teleports, then three more just after, at last bringing the crowd up to nine. Skull and Ring came to the front of the crowd, and Skull Man took it upon himself to demand an explanation. “All right, what’s the big idea?” he asked, getting close to Pharaoh and thumping a finger on his chest. “You call in outta nowhere, throw some numbers at us and go, ‘Hey, let’s ship off for the States, there’s a  _ surprise _ waiting for us!’ Like this is any time to… uhh… to go… Hey, this ain’t Light-”

“Yes! I’m aware! This isn’t LightLabs!” He pushed Skull away, holding his head, feeling very lost now.

“So where are we?” Ring asked.

“I don’t know!”

Skull jumped back in. “Then why’d you call us here?!”

“Rock is functional again!” he blurted out at last, and the crowd took a second to absorb that. Toad Man was the first to speak up again, his whole body tensing with visible happiness at the thought.

“Really?! He’s really, really back?”

“Yes!”

“Did Dr. Light eliminate virus from Light-bots?” Dive Man asked, in his archaic caricature of an accent.

“Yes! I think. I mean, of course!” Hitting that speed bump of doubt, Pharaoh Man thought back. Rock had said he was clean. Hadn’t he? And surely Dr. Light would never willingly let Rock out of the lab if he was still infected.

“What do you mean, you  _ think?”  _ Ring Man pressed. Everyone waited for a response, but Pharaoh Man was captivated by something else. It was difficult to make out in the dim light and on the other side of the room, but once Pharaoh realized what he was seeing, it was all he could focus on. 

Bolted to the wall above one of the steel shutters leading out of the storage room was a moulded metal emblem, hastily airbrushed in harsh colours, whose design most of them were familiar with. As they all followed his gaze one by one, slowly the entire room of robots came to understand exactly where they were. All except for Tundra Man, who had to ask. “What? What are we looking at? Is it the W on the wall? What’s that mean?”

“You  _ dumbass!”  _ Skull Man hollered, then lunged forward to put his hands around Pharaoh’s neck and shake him like an almond tree. “Wily’s fortress?! Are you kidding me?!”

From there, the conversation became a free-for-all of shouted questions and rushed answers, and as the pandemonium grew, no one picked up the sound of one more inbound teleportation coming in behind the crowd.

“Rock will be here soon!” Pharaoh Man insisted, trying to distance himself from his violent cohort. “He’ll explain everything - this was all his idea in the first place!”

“Of course it was! He’s  _ infected, _ you coffin-fondling screwhead!” Skull was practically foaming at the mouth, and the others were drawing away from the conflict, knowing what he was capable of when riled. Ring Man was the only one to step forward, and place a hand on each of their shoulders.

“All right, settle down, mate. No point in fighting. Let’s just sort this out.”

Skull Man threw Ring’s hand off him and went on ranting. “Yeah, sure, let’s assess! Golden boy here just led us straight into Wily’s fortress. There could be guard-bots on their way right now, and six of us here couldn’t fight their way out of a Chinese finger trap! So we’re doing freakin’ spectacular!”

Toad Man, shuddering in the middle of the group, piped up. “And we’re probably surrounded by infected robot masters. And some of us still might be infected too,” he said, eying the others warily and shrinking away.

“So we  _ leave,” _ Pharaoh said, exasperated. The guilt on his mind was not heavy enough to keep him from resenting Skull Man for making it worse. “We find an outbound relay, and disappear before we’re noticed. It won’t take that long.”

Drill Man nodded, as best as he could without a neck. “Yep. Probably oughta beam out of here quietly while we still can. Doubt things could get much worse.”

“Ehh, fellows?” Bright Man called from the back. “I’ve been looking, and well… I can’t find an outbound teleport band that isn’t being jammed. We’re locked down,” he finished fearfully.

“Huh,” Drill grunted. “Well, there you have it. Now they really can’t get any worse.”

“Um.” A new voice, from far in back of the group, made itself known with a tiny, unsure sound. Nine sets of eyes all turned on the figure hiding in the shadow by a stack of crates and coils.

“No…” Pharaoh said in an uneasy whisper, feeling his servos freeze up with the dire shock of seeing the young mistress Kalinka reveal her presence to the room.

“Y-yeah,” she answered.

“Arright!” Drill Man barked. “Now they  _ definitely _ can’t get any worse.” He was met with glares all around, but everyone waited to see if fortune would meet his challenge, and they were grateful when it didn’t. He shrugged. “You keep digging and eventually you hit rock bottom.”

“How ‘bout I dig you six feet down right now?” Skull growled, and punched him in the head.

\- 

In another corner of the fortress, the mood was far more positive; at least one person was watching everything go according to plan today.

“Hey, old man.” Bass approached the monitoring station from the poorly-lit hall, and made himself known. “I know you sciencey types have pretty bonkers working hours, but is there a reason you’re giggling to yourself like a clown in the middle of the night? Is that part of the process, or what?”

“I’m a genius,” Wily mused as he flipped carelessly through pages of teleport scans. “I mean, I’ve always been a genius, but I’m really on the ball this week.” He was slouched back in his chair, perusing leisurely, a man who, in his own mind, had much to lose yet nothing to fear. 

“Oh, yeah? Why this time?” Bass asked, detached and coolly reclined against a wall, as was his wont.

“Stealing and refurbishing robot masters was never cost-effective, and building my own even less so. And let’s be honest - it always escalated things out of control. But it was necessary to buy time and leverage.”

“Until you built me. Then it was just a stupid thing you kept doing for no reason while the best robot ever got to sit around doing jack-”

_ “As I was saying…  _ Roboenza 1 may have failed, but it proved that gambling on subtlety was just as viable as playing quick and dirty with stolen robots. That sitting on my keister with a plan in the oven wouldn’t be a waste of time. Naturally; I’m far wiser than I was years ago,” he said, preening his moustache. Finally looking away from his computer console again, he tapped his mouse and closed the records window. “Taking the time to play the long game paid off this time. This virus isn’t just effective. It’s been raking in robots beyond my wildest expectations.”

“Yeah, and those tend to be pretty wild,” Bass muttered, bored and uninterested in another round of self-congratulation from his overseer. “So, since you didn’t make a bunch of worthless battle drones this time around,” he said, lifting himself off the wall and whacking his knuckles into his palm, “I'm guessing we’re almost at the part where I get out there and do the whole mayhem thing, right?”

“No.”

“Aw, come on! Someone has to!”

Wily laced his fingers in a nefarious arch and rested them against his fiendish skeleton necktie. “Phase 1 of my diabolical plan has more or less reached its devilish conclusion. Buying the aforementioned time and leverage has never gone so swimmingly. Not to mention, the successful proof of concept provided by my Roboenza 2 is-”

“Oh, by the way,” Bass cut in, “they’re calling it REM.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Like, RoboEnza-M. Like, Mutation, or something? I guess. Idunno.”

“I never called it that!” Wily growled, clutching the arms of his chair like a hissing cat.

“Well, they’re calling it that.”

“Then they’re wrong!!”

“Whatever. You were sayin’ something stupid?”

Wily seethed audibly for a second, then slumped into his chair and went on. “The promising success of  _ Roboenza 2’s _ core concept,” he strained, his fingers curling again momentarily, “is quite heartening. Testing the limits of that concept is the necessary subsequent undertaking. It will demand as much time, and as many viable test subjects, as I can possibly allocate to it. And it would be best for my purposes if the Blue Brat didn’t go blowing them up.”

“So I blow  _ him _ up. I getcha,” Bass said, pointing a menacing finger-gun at nothing in particular.

“It’s like eating soup with a fork, talking to you. No, you trigger-happy yutz! Mega Man may be a ‘hero’, but Rock is a softhearted sponge of a robot. He puts off violence until the last possible second. And this time, that’s exactly what I’m counting on.” He put his feet up, and theatrically folded his arms behind his head in smug satisfaction. “It pays to take a few losses, if you may come to know your enemy.”

“A few losses, huh?”

“Shut up. The point is, while Rock endlessly begs his daddy to save the poor, helpless robots with his slapdash excuse for coding, I’ll be leisurely rolling along with my plans, safe in my impenetrable fortress.”

“Impenetrable.”

“Shut up.”

“No, seriously though. You got more robots beaming in than you can be bothered to keep track of, idiot. What if the twerp’s one of ‘em?”

“Unlikely. The location of my fortress isn’t being broadcast - it’s given out by infected robots. He couldn’t receive that information without risking infection himself. But on the off chance he stumbles through my doors, then my defenses will deter him.”

“Shyeah, right. Because  _ that _ keeps happening.” Wily grabbed a stress ball off his desk and pitched it at Bass’ head, which appropriately did alleviate his stress somewhat as it bounced off Bass’ cheek and rounded the inside of his fin like a skeeball. “Whatever. Play with your stupid hack robots for losers. Why’s that mean I gotta stay inside?”

Wily groaned, massaging his brow. “Let me put it this way. Let’s say I were to - oh, I don’t know - release ninety-nine red balloons in front of you. What would you do then?”

“Ha! Balloons? I could blast every one of them out of the sky before you could blink, old man!” Bass asserted proudly as he brandished his buster.

“Yes. Yes, you could. Now go fetch my coffee.” Bass growled indecipherably. “Well? Go keep yourself busy, if you're so bored. And hurry up. I like my coffee like I like my robots,” Wily said, kicking back again.

Bass glanced down at his armour. “... Black?”

“Returning to me without delay. Now shoo!”

“Whatever." Bass stomped off, calling back, "Just so we're clear, if Mega Man shows up here, I’m gonna turn him into shrapnel.”

“Oh yes,  _ that _ keeps happening.”

“Shut up.”

-

In the storage room across the building: panic.

Toad Man was a stammering mess. Skull Man remained uselessly livid. Most of the others were paralyzed, not knowing what to do or say. Action had to be taken. None of them could decide what that was.

“Kalinka… Why?” Pharaoh man asked the obvious question.

“You all just disappeared at the same time! I didn’t know what was going on!”

“So you  _ followed _ us?!” he demanded, still in disbelief that this was really happening. “Why would you follow us?!”

Kalinka held her head in her hands, and he realized he was probably pushing her too hard. She was no more happy to be here than they were. Probably a lot less, considering the past. Running her hand roughly through her bangs, she tried to explain. “I read the end of the communication logs. I thought it would be safe.”

“Yeah. It would’ve been,” Skull piped up, “if he took two seconds to think about what he was doing.” He pointed an accusing finger at Pharaoh Man, narrowing his eyes to slits inside his sockets. “This is all your fault, you know.”

“Oh, and I’m sure your wisdom could have saved the day, in my position.” Pharaoh turned away from the mistress, taking the confrontation head-on. He felt responsible, yes, but Skull was overstepping. “After all, you’re such a critical thinker, Skull Man. Shooting things, not shooting things - your mind is just abuzz with carefully sorted contingencies, isn’t it?”

“Well, unlike you, I don’t start shooting sparks out of my ears every time a Light-bot acknowledges my existence! Seriously, can you get over the kid already?!” Skull closed the gap and started chesting up. The sloppy circle of robots around them got a little wider.

“Mates,” Ring butted in.

“He’s a hero! And perhaps the finest robot ever made! We should all be so-”

“Did I ask?!”

“Mates.”

“We owe the Light-bots everything. They saved the doctor, and the mistress… and the world! Why shouldn’t I admire them? Especially Rock!”

“You are so obsessed with him! Admit it - you wanna be him, don’t you?! That’s why you’re horning in on my racket! You only want to fight because that’s what he does!” he shouted, his face an inch from Pharaoh’s, who made a point of standing his ground. “That’s why you’re out here trying to make me obsolete! So you can be like your freakin’ hero!”

“Oi! Knock it off!” Before either of them knew it was coming, Ring Man cracked their heads together like rowdy billiard balls. Skull and Pharaoh staggered back and away from each other. Both of them threw a glare in Ring’s direction, who only pointed to the corner where their mistress had been forgotten. Kalinka was seated on a spool of steel cable, her skirt gathering brown dust and her head in her hands. In the quiet that followed the robots’ little spat, they could hear her breathing shakily and doing her very best not to start crying.

Pharaoh hurried to her side, leaving Skull to fume behind him. “Kalinka. Kalinka, don’t worry. We’ll protect you,” he assured her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. She put her own over it, and seemed to calm down just a little.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I came after you…”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah,” Skull grunted. “It’s yours.”

Doing his best to ignore the chorus, Pharaoh considered his next actions carefully. Then he stooped down a little lower, and put his arms around the young mistress, awkwardly arranging them into something hug-like. Luckily for his steadily diminishing pride, he couldn’t see the others look at him like he was pulling up the carpet in a church. Kalinka held him in kind, tugging him down farther. “Please don’t pull me off balance. I don’t want to fall on you.”

“That's the first time you’ve ever hugged me on your own,” she told him, and she was right. He’d returned embraces with gentle pats on the shoulder, or given her a hug goodbye if she’d told him to when she went off to school, but not of his own accord. Not long ago, he wouldn’t have considered embracing her to be an appropriate response. But…

“It seemed like the thing to do,” he explained. “You needn’t worry, Kalinka. All of us will protect you, to our very last. So long as we’re standing, I promise you won’t come to harm.”

“You shouldn’t have to protect me…”

“It’s what I was made for. More or less. And if worse comes to worst, and any of us must be lost to protect you,” he added, feeling her grip on him tighten as he said it, “Dr. Cossack has our backups at the citadel. Losing a few months of memories is infinitely better than losing you. We’re only robots, after all.”

Kalinka shook her head, and let him go so she could look at him. “Not to me.”

He wasn’t sure how to process that. So as usual, he turned to duty instead. “Well… Be that as it may, you are our primary concern. Everyone,” he said, clasping his hands as he addressed the group again, “we need a plan. If you’ll allow me time to assess our-”

“Nope.”

“Skull Man, please.”

Skull walked heavily toward him. He gave Kalinka as sympathetic a look as he was capable of, and resumed the infighting, much to Pharaoh’s displeasure. “You’re done making plans for the day.”

“Don’t order me around. You have no authority with which to do so.”

“Oh, and you do? Who died and made you boss?”

“Mates,” Ring warned.

Pharaoh held up a placating hand to him, and went on. “I am an expedition robot. It is my  _ exact function _ to lead others through hazardous, unknown territory. So I hope you don’t intend to stand in the way of me doing my job.”

“Don’t get tough with me. You know what this is about. You knew Rock was infected, and you still followed him here like a dog. And you dragged us all here with you. I don’t even know how you could possibly screw up that bad, but you went and did it.” He came in close, and jabbed a finger into Pharaoh’s chest. “And I’m starting to think maybe you did it on purpose. Maybe you’re not as clean as you’re acting.”

“I’m not infected,” Pharaoh insisted, doing his best not to nurture the seeds of doubt Skull was planting.

“Awfully weird time for you to suddenly get so sure of that.”

“I am not!”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re off the committee. We’ll figure this out without you. Right, Ring?” He turned away to face his fellow fighter, who could only shrug and look frustrated. “Right? Guys?” Everyone in the room looked just as unsure, even as some muttered halfhearted agreements.

Pharaoh Man wasn’t even aware he was moving until his back collided with a pile of crates behind him. He slumped against it, his mind reeling. As much as he wanted Skull to be off the mark, he wasn’t. Costly mistakes had been made. He’d been very, very wrong. Was he unfit to serve? Was he malfunctioning? Worse, was he infected? Any of them could have been now, even the ones who had come out clean before. Something inside of him told him that he was all right, and he wanted to believe it. But things were chaos, inside and out.

“Pharaoh.” Kalinka put her hand on his arm, drawing his attention away from that. “It’s okay. You just made a mistake. We still need you.” Her voice drew the attention of every robot in the room as well, with mixed reactions.

“No, I…He’s right. I may not be fit for duty. I’ve shown grievous lapses in judgement. I need time to… to…” To what, he wasn’t sure.

“Listen,” she told him, and held his hand in both of hers. “A good leader doesn’t shut down the second something goes wrong. They keep working until the job is done and everyone is safe. Look at them. Look at  _ me.  _ Do we really look more prepared for this than you are?”

“You are our overseer after the doctor. You should be-”

“Pharaoh, I’m  _ this  _ close to a panic attack. Please don’t force me to make decisions right now,” Kalinka begged, yanking his arm down like a curtain's drawstring. “I need you to do this. I know you can. I trust you.”

The two of them shared a look, and then Kalinka cast her gaze around the room, regarding each robot in passing. They all knew what it meant; the one human in the room had given the one order she was planning to give.

“His mistake put you in danger!” Skull tried to protest.

“No, mine did. His put  _ you _ in danger. And now he’s going to help get us all out.” The Three Laws were wrapped up in far more nuance now than they had been when they were first implemented. A great deal of development had been done in pursuit of more rational adherence to the Laws and interpretation of commands. But they still behaved in predictable ways. In the absence of any immediate threat, Kalinka could be sure that if she ordered Pharaoh to the head of the pack, the others would follow despite any doubts.

“Please, just... someone tell me what to do,” Toad Man sobbed.

“Drama queen,” Tundra scoffed.

Pharaoh Man stood upright again, and crossed his arms while he stared at the metal plating of the floor. He understood his role, and his orders, but wasn’t quite ready to face the others eye to eye, with all that had been said. 

He considered their situation - the knowns and the unknowns. His team had a wide variety of skills. Applying them all may not have proved necessary, but it was all on the table. It was a greater pool of resources than he was used to working with, but then again there was a greater danger, and a greater set of unknowns. The layout of the fortress was a mystery, but that much he was used to. The presence of unseen active threats roaming the halls, the villain sitting at the head of the compound, and the question of how they were going to escape - all that still daunted him.

Kalinka had her needs as well. He had a rough idea of the assorted biological rhythms of a human body and how they could affect a journey. He was versed in subtle threats to human safety; while even construction robots knew to keep steel beams from falling on heads, he was well aware of things like temperature changes, air quality, and chemical presences. Kalinka’s emotional well-being was a factor as well, something he would have to see to - if not to maintain their forward momentum, then at the very least to minimize the psychological harm this excursion inflicted.

He felt another hand, not Kalinka’s, land on his shoulder. Ring Man was beside him, his face unreadable as usual. “Say the word, king.”

Pharaoh looked around the room. Most of them shrugged. Toad Man continued to fall apart. Dive Man stood at attention. "Awaiting orders, captain!"

Skull Man looked no happier than he'd been a moment ago. But he no longer looked angry - just disappointed. The two of them looked at each other for a moment, and Skull threw his arms down and barked, "So get on with it! Give us a plan, already!"

Good enough, Pharaoh thought. It was time to get to work. "I'm still sorting out the details." Skull shook his head and wandered off. 

Dust Man crept forward and asked quietly, "Ehh, so… Are we all friends again? Are you three going to continue accosting each other? What happened?"

Ring and Pharaoh shared a look, and then both of them looked at Skull Man, who made several obscene gestures in rapid succession and only stopped after a freezing look from Kalinka. With a subdued chuckle, Ring answered, “We’re battle-bots. We play rough.” He slugged Pharaoh in the arm. “Right, king?”

Holding his arm, Pharaoh Man just offered a pair of smiling eyes in response, and made himself known to the rest of the room again. “All right. Cossack-bots, your attention for a moment. I have some thoughts.” All eyes were on him, and he wasted no time. "Two main issues come to mind. The first is our means of escape. Teleporting out would be safest, if we find a relay we can use."

"So, what? We just keep scanning and hope for the best?" Skull asked. He was at least being a participant; that was heartening.

“No. The opposite, actually. Everyone, turn off all wireless communications now, please.”

“Great, so now we’re trapped  _ and _ signal-deaf. Things are lookin’ up!”

“No, he’s right,” Bright Man offered. “A robot master’s comm signature would be like a beacon to anyone scanning this area, and nine of us piled up in one spot would get their attention for sure. We have to stay dark. As weird as that may sound coming from me…”

Drill Man raised a drill. “Uh, ‘scuse me. How do we find a way out without scanning for one?”

“Simple,” Pharaoh said. “Either we find a computer terminal in this fortress that can locate an unlocked outbound teleport band, and escape that way, or we don’t and we escape on foot through a more traditional exit.”

Drill Man raised another drill. “Does it have to be on foot? What if we find one of Wily’s bubble-car floaty things?”

“Look, if you find a bubble-car that can fit ten bodies, let the group know and we’ll put it to a vote. Otherwise, we’re going to keep it simple. Simple, quiet, and subtle,” he finished. “That isn’t our best option anyway, teleportation is. We don’t know where the exit might be, and even if we did, we don’t know how far we are from civilization.”

Drill Man raised the first drill again. “I do.”

Now it was all eyes on him. Pharaoh asked the obvious question. “How?”

“I just cross-referenced the coordinates you gave us with my own records before we came here.” Dumbfounded, the others stared back at him, and he didn’t seem to know why. He shrugged. “I guess it’s kind of a habit, from that year I spent mining. Mining companies have sites all over the place.”

“But… but then, you… you  _ knew _ we weren’t going to LightLabs!”

“Myeah.”

“And you didn’t think there was something off about that?” Ring asked.

Drill shrugged again, throwing his arms out a bit and letting them thud limply back down. “Everyone else was going,” he finally said.

Amidst the sounds of Skull Man hitting his head against the wall, Pharaoh gradually composed himself. “All right. No, that’s good. This is good news. We have more information than we thought we did. Drill Man. Please tell us, then, exactly how far we are from human civilization.”

“Welp, we’re three hundred n’ eighty-one kilometers north-westish from the copper prospect site I was drilling two years ago.”

Two more unenthused  _ thunks _ and then Skull Man paused the assault on his own forehead to say, “I can’t believe you actually thought he was gonna be helpful.”

“I’m doin’ my best here, bud.”

“Skull Man,” Kalinka said, her girlish voice cutting through the electronic bickering. She slid off her makeshift seat and came to his side, stalling his headbanging a little longer. “I know you’re frustrated. Every directive you have must feel obstructed by what’s going on. You’re not a collaborator. You’re a fighter. And that’s okay.”

“Thanks.”

She grabbed him by the shoulders, her grip suddenly tense and tenacious. “But right now, I need you to play nice. Because I’m currently reliving the worst experience of my entire life, while the world outside goes utterly crazy and my father is asleep halfway around the world where he can’t fix anyone here who breaks. And if things don’t start looking up, I may start screaming. And I may not stop screaming for a considerable length of time. Is that what you want?”

Wide-eyed, Skull responded, “No, ma’am.”

“Then please - for me - put a happy face on this, and collaborate. Please,  _ please  _ give me a reason to stop panicking,” Kalinka said, her grip tightening.

Skull looked at her, then at the others, then at Pharaoh, and at Kalinka again. “Everything’s, uhh… Everything is gonna… be okay,” he finished weakly, and patted her shoulder.

Looking like she absolutely did not believe him, Kalinka nonetheless gave him a tight, grateful smile, then hung her head. “Pharaoh. What do we do?”

“There is one other thing we should take care of right now,” Pharaoh said, quickly taking up the reins again. He paced cautiously away from the group, searching. “Bright Man. Check for cameras.”

Kalinka had to squint as Bright set off a series of flashes, turning himself around and systematically inspecting the room. As a light-based search robot, he was capable of using light flashes much like sonar, deriving information on his surroundings based on the reflections. “I’m not catching anything lens-like. There could be pinholes, but this room doesn’t seem high-tech enough for that.”

“No, it doesn’t. So it should be safe to assume our conversation wasn’t heard. That’s good. As Toad Man said, there are likely many robot masters being called here by REM. If Dr. Wily is aware of our presence, it’s best that he assumes we’re just more infected arrivals.” Pharaoh went to the door furthest from the one with Wily’s emblem over it, and placed his hand on it, putting his own toolkit to work. A hallway, long enough that he couldn’t see the other end; that was no good. He crossed over to another door in the back corner, and inspected what lay beyond that one as well. Metal wasn’t as easy to sense through by any metric as the buried stone walls and floors of old tombs, but in this case, he did the job well enough. “I think I can see all four walls in here. Some clutter, but no other doors. Perfect.”

Pharaoh found the door controls and the entire thing slid aside once activated, revealing a dark room full of sealed crates. It was smaller than he’d thought, his impression distorted somewhat, but it was enough. “Bright. Threats?”

Bright Man followed him in, and swept the small room. He shook his head. “Just bare walls and ceiling.” Pharaoh Man leaned out and waved the rest of the group inside. By the time all ten were in, it was getting a little cramped, but there was still standing room for all.

Pharaoh took a moment to run his finger over the edge of one of the crates. A thin arc of dust was left on his fingertip. All the crates were sealed, and hadn’t been touched in some time, perhaps since the fortress’ construction. It was likely they could remain here for a while. He closed the door behind them, and without the light of the larger storage room, the one they were in now went pitch black. Bright rectified that with a warm ivory glow. Hidden away with one more door between them and danger, everyone relaxed somewhat.

“It’s cold in here,” Kalinka remarked as she tugged her jacket tighter around her.

“I noticed that as well,” Pharaoh said, nodding. “It’s unlikely that the fortress is thoroughly heated. Small, sealed spaces like this won’t benefit from it.”

“Yeah. Plus we’re on a mountain,” Drill added.

“Drill Man, can you tell us where we are, geographically speaking?”

“Ah, well sir, if memory serves… I’m pretty sure that prospect site was somewhere in the east of the Brooks Range in northern Alaska, which’d put us in the west of it.”

“Alaska, huh?” Ring shrugged. “Could be worse.”

“It could, yes. We’ll sort out escape soon,” Pharaoh said, quietly addressing the tiny room’s occupants. “But for now, there’s something else that should be taken care of.” He turned to the mistress, who looked at him hopefully. “Kalinka? I think you should take a nap.”

“... Come again?”

Skull Man growled. “What is it with you and goofy ideas today?”

“Hear me out,” Pharaoh said. “You’ve been awake for roughly eight hours now, yes?”

Already starting to understand, Kalinka sighed and said, “Ten. I had a restless morning.” Kalinka was a habitual early riser, and kept surprisingly well-rested for a student due to her tight scheduling. It wasn’t uncommon for her light sleeping to be interrupted - something else Pharaoh had taken into account.

“All the more reason, then. We have no idea how long we may be trapped here before we escape, and this may be your last chance to rest. If exhaustion sets in, it could become a problem.” The local time was nearly two in the morning, but given that robots didn’t sleep and Wily was a maniac, there was no telling when or if the fortress would be quiet. “That, and I can tell the stress from the situation is… Well…” He tried to express it diplomatically, but she beat him to the punch.

“It’s making me crazy. I know. I’m sorry.” She heaved out another sigh, and leaned on the wall, shaking her head. “You really want me to try to sleep right now? In this place? In this room?”

“Toad Man,” he said, pointing. “You’re soft.”

“Thanks for noticing.”

Pharaoh hefted a couple of crates off the top of the pile, putting them aside and clearing a space. “Sit back here, and allow Kalinka to lie against you.” While Toad Man sputtered and clumsily did as he was told, Pharaoh spoke to the others. “The rest of you, try to vent some extra heat, if possible. We should coordinate to keep the temperature of this room at around sixty degrees Fahrenheit to ensure that Kalinka sleeps well.”

“Why do you have a figure for that?” Skull asked.

“And why is it in Fahrenheit, you mook?” Tundra demanded.

“When in Rome... Sixteen Celsius, then. Can we accomplish that without any more bickering?”

“Yes. Yes you can,” Kalinka forcefully assured them. She climbed up and arranged herself against the back of Toad Man’s relatively squishy chassis. The small amount of give in his rubbery hide afforded her precious little comfort, and she had to put her felt cap between her hair and the tacky surface, and her folded jacket between herself and her metal seat. She crossed her legs, closed her eyes, and tried to relax, shivering a little as the others worked on solving the heat issue.

“Righteo. I’ll stand guard then,” Ring said, and made it way over to stand by the door.

“Uh, yeah. I’ll help.” Skull moved somewhat awkwardly to stand across from Ring, and shrugged when he received a dubious look for his trouble. Most of the other robots stood aside, clearing the middle of the room. Bright Man turned down the intensity of his light until the room was barely lit. Pharaoh was left standing by himself, considering their situation. Really, all of them were considering it. All of them knew how ridiculous and how dangerous and desperate things were getting, as they watched the mistress settle in for a nap in Wily’s storage closet.

“We can no longer communicate silently through networking. Once you are asleep, Kalinka, we will continue coordinating aloud amongst ourselves,” Pharaoh explained. “We need to be as prepared as possible. Until then,” he said, addressing the group, “we should all remain silent, to allow Kalinka to rest.”

“Oh, cool. You’re finally gonna shut up.” Skull Man didn’t get a response of any kind, from anyone, and apparently that was enough to dissuade him from speaking up again.There was a moment of quiet in that dark room, as the robots diligently stood placid and Kalinka did her best to doze off. Then she let out a soft groan and started fidgeting in place.

“I think you’re kind of underestimating how hard it is to relax in these conditions,” she grumbled.

Toad Man turned his face a little, his semi-elastic torso stretching stiffly to accommodate. “I’m sorry, mistress. Being a pillow isn’t really my primary function.”

“It’s okay,” she sighed. “There’s more to robots than primary functions, right?”

“I guess so. Is there something else I can do for you?”

Another moment passed with only the sound of her breathing, and the hum of the powered walls, and Kalinka semi-seated against the team gardener with her hands clasped in her lap. She unfolded them for a second to reach back and poke him in the side. “Hey. Can you sing the song?”

“The song?” Toad asked, confused.

“You know,” she said playfully. “The frog song? Remember?”

“Oh. Oh, yes, I remember. Singing isn’t really my primary function either…”

“Pleeeease?”

After a few seconds, Toad Man began to quietly hum a pleasant little melody, and Kalinka folded her hands and closed her eyes again. The song was sung in the rigid tones of a robot, perfectly in tune almost to a fault. But it was something familiar, and he sang as softly as he could, and by the end of the first few lines, Kalinka felt much better.

_ Why are there so many songs about rainbows _

_ And what’s on the other side? _

_ Rainbows are visions, but only illusions _

_ And rainbows have nothing to hide _

_ So we’ve been told and some choose to believe it _

_ I know they’re wrong, wait and see _

_ Someday we’ll find it _

_ The rainbow connection _

_ The lovers, the dreamers, and me _

Pharaoh could sense himself smiling in the dark, in spite of everything. It was a terrible situation, he knew. Quite an awful gambit he’d forced them into. But he was a robot; he was made to provide solutions to problems. And in the dim light (which by design he had no problem seeing through), he could see Kalinka beginning to relax as Toad Man’s silly little song went on, her face attempting serenity and just about getting there. She could relax because she trusted him. And if she trusted him, he wouldn’t let her down. Something inside told him it was all right, that he was doing the right thing.

_ Stay functional. Follow directives. Protect Kalinka. Protect everyone. Simple. Easy. Follow the Laws, use your best judgement. Everything else will fall into place. _ For all the trouble he’d had in the past couple of years with his own increasingly complex thoughts and concerns, in the last little while he’d achieved a sort of minor enlightenment. Largely he had Dr. Cossack and Kalinka to thank for that, he knew. The path was clear. Difficult, stressful, but clear. In the back of his mind, beyond the tribulations at hand, was an assurance that things would be fine. That Kalinka would be safe. That he was on the right path.

_ Have you been half asleep, and have you heard voices? _

_ I’ve heard them calling my name... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while, I know. Not dead! Just busy. For readers seeing this note in the future, pretend I said something really smart and cool and relevant to you.  
> Hey look, we're at the part of the story where the main character stops being a spectator and actually starts taking action! And it only took two and a half chapters! It's almost time for action and adventure!  
> ... See you in chapter 4!


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